


A different conversation

by Mar3n



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, I'm Still Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, except they're not really angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mar3n/pseuds/Mar3n
Summary: Hawk keeps questioning Soap's authority. They have a very different conversation. It's not all that uncomfortable, though.





	

“If you continue questioning my authority, then you and I are going to have a very different conversation. One you will not  be comfortable with. Is that clear?”

He tightens his jaw and stares her down, waiting for Hawk to back off. She doesn’t. He sees it, the moment she decides to fight him on this, and her eyes flash as she cocks her head to the side in challenge.

“Everyone else out,” he orders, his voice too loud, too angry in the small space.

Roach and Archer comply immediately, but Ghost hangs back.

“John—”

“Out. Now.”

He watches Ghost try to catch Hawk’s eye, but Hawk is too entirely focused on glaring at him. When the door finally slams closed, he turns his attention back to Hawk.

“You have to stop being insubordinate.”

“You  have to stop lying.” She steps forward, further into his space, so they’re practically toe to toes.

“I’m the Captain of the 141. Lying is part of the job description.”

“And last year, you told me we were forgetting all the protocols we were bound to. You told me that we — that you and me — were going to find the answers. Lying to me doesn’t fit that  job description.”

Soap swallows, grits his teeth harder.

“You’ve got nothing to say to that?”

”Hawk-”

“You gonna make this conversation uncomfortable , Captain MacTavish?” She spits out his title like a curse and pushes her right index finger into his chest. “You think there’s anything  you could do that would be more uncomfortable than you cutting me out?”

“Don’t you think I would tell you more if I could?”

“I don’t know what I think anymore!”

The worst part of all of it is that Soap agrees with her. The worst part of all of it is how much he hates himself for lying to her, no matter how much he knows it’s for the best.

The worst part of all is that even with all of that, he’s still angry at her for pushing, still angry at her for doing it in front of everyone else, still angry at her for the vague amusement in Archer’s eyes.

Soap grabs hold of her wrist, pulls her index finger off of his shoulder, and tugs her impossibly closer.

“You have to stop questioning me in front of the others.”

“You don’t think the others have a right to know that the Captain of the 141 is actively obstructing a key investigation?”

“It’s more complicated than that, and you know it!”

“And you’re being a bad Captain, you know that, too!”

He doesn’t intend  to kiss her. It’s just that one minute he is not kissing her and then the next he is , while using his grip on her right wrist to twist her arm behind her back so that she’s thrust up against him. Hawk kisses back instantly, her mouth hot and hungry under his, even as she struggles against his grip. Eventually, though, she completely gives in — relaxes into his hold as she bites down on his lower lip, turning the kiss rougher and somehow needier.

“Hawk,” he grunts into her mouth as her teeth pinch down too hard, and he can feel her fierce smile in return.

He drops her arm then in favor of cupping her face, trying to take more control of their kiss as he presses his thumbs into the sides of her jaw. Hawk gives in to the gentler pressure, her mouth opening compliantly underneath his as her hands skate down his body.

Soap pushes her back against the desk, lifting her slightly so that she rests there as they start to work at each other’s belts. He fumbles too much at her buckle, his fingers stalling out every time her teeth nip at him so that it feels like a Herculean feat when he finally gets it open. The button and zipper on her jeans are not much easier, and he’s still struggling to slide her tight jeans and panties past her hips when Hawk has his pants and boxers around his ankles.

“Fuck,” he grunts when Hawk wraps her hand around his cock. She doesn’t pump her hand, just squeezes at the base and draws him closer to her.

He groans into her neck, places a firm nip there, as he gives up on getting her jeans all the way off. Instead, he pushes his hand between her legs and slides two fingers past her clit and then up inside of her. She’s so wet — almost impossibly wet after so little foreplay — and he works his fingers in a fast, hard rhythm as she bucks against his hand.

“Fuck me,” she begs.

He pulls back at the plea and slips his fingers from inside of her, sucking them into his mouth almost thoughtlessly as he glances back at the door and then to her jeans and boots. They don’t have the time or the privacy to get any more undressed, especially not her, and they both know it.

“Turn over?” He offers, and she nods. Hawk pauses only long enough to pull his lips back to hers for a hard, fast kiss that leaves him dizzy. When she turns around, she sprawls the top half of her body across his desk and raises up on her toes.

He can’t help but grab hold of her hips, slapping his hands down too firmly on her ass so that she squeals beneath him.

“Is that my punishment for being insubordinate?” She stretches her neck so she can make eye contact as she speaks, and his response is a startled laugh and a sharp squeeze of her hips.

“I should,” he answers, darkly, swatting her on purpose this time and earning a tiny squeal.

“You like it when I’m insubordinate.”

He can't hold back a smile at that.

“Not in front of the others."

“You just have to tell me everything.”

“I will,” he promises.

“When?”

“After.” He slides his fingers down between her legs, rubbing at her clit again. “I think I have a condom in my wallet.”

“As long as you’re clean, you don’t need it.”

“I am. I haven’t…” He pauses, swallows. He hasn’t done this in over a year.

“Then fuck me already.”

Her jeans, pulled taut across her upper thighs, keep her legs bound together, so when Soap pushes up against her, he has to push hard to slip into the slick warmth between her legs. Whether it’s her or the angle he doesn’t know, but it’s about the tightest squeeze he can remember.

“Go slow,” she gasps as she works her hips backwards against him, and Soap groans his approval. If he goes fast, he doesn’t see himself lasting a minute.

It takes forever, or at least it feels like it, before he’s pushed all the way inside of her in a series of tiny strokes forward. The feel of her is intense — almost too intense — such that he could come from just the heat and pressure alone. He curls himself around her, face buried in her hair and arms set on either side of her head, as he catches his breath and tries to control himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Hawk answers, almost a hiss.

Soap pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back in in one long stroke, which sends Hawk sprawling across the desk. She scrambles up on her toes even as she keeps her cheek pressed to the wooden surface, and Soap adjusts himself, stands up straight and grabs tight to her hips as he thrusts again.

“Faster,” she hisses, and Soap clenches his jaw as he complies. Hawk moves against him as much as she can, angling her hips so that every thrust hits where she needs it and moaning his name at every thrust.

“Don’t stop,” she begs him, clearly close to orgasm, and all Soap can do is grunt in response.

His control is a fine thread, though, and he loses his battle to hold out for Hawk. He comes hard, forcing himself to keep up the fast pace even as he falls apart inside of her, and it’s a tremendous relief when it doesn’t take her long to follow him. The feel of her clenching around him extends his own orgasm, makes it impossible to remain standing. He collapses on top of her, even before his hips have stopped moving.

Soap pants in her ear as he comes down, as she still feels clenched so tightly  around him.

“Jesus, Hawk,” he whispers, nuzzles his face against the side of hers.

“Not mad, at me anymore, then?”

“No. I wasn’t…”

“You were mad at yourself more than me,” she supplies.

“Except —”

“Except I’ll be more respectful in front of Ghost and Archer. Yes, sir.”

Soap laughs, when her ‘sir’ is punctuated by a tight squeeze of her vaginal muscles around his cock, still mostly hard.

“I’m  still mad at you , though, you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answers. Slowly, he pulls out, and grabs at some nearby tissues. He takes several for himself and hands a several more to Hawk, who seems utterly unconcerned with being half-naked in his office. Soap, on the other hand, hurries to pull up his pants and buckle his belt.

When she’s finally fully clothed again, she stays standing at his desk staring down, and it takes him a minute to realize that she’s looking at his journal.

“Just tell me you’re okay,” she whispers, her voice quiet and almost on the edge of breaking.

Soap swallows.

“Some days I’m more okay than others,” he finally tells her.

“Tell me?”

She finally turns around and looks at him, and there’s just no anger in her. It’s never been about anger for her, not at all, and Soap grabs her hand and pulls her body up against his as he tries to sort through the mess of things he needs to say.


End file.
